Are We All Right?
by ada511
Summary: Really just two posteps... My interpretation of how Bobby and Alex reach their respective end of ropes . Hints of BA
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: How did Bobby go from so protective of Alex to so distant in between Siren Call and War at Home? Takes place in the car right at the end of Siren Call.**

Disclaimer: Characters and show are not mine. 

He wasn't all right. And he knew she knew it on some level. She was simply too raw herself to press him. He knew it had cost her to ask because she was afraid of how he would respond. He knew full well that for the first time in their partnership, he was her anchor. He knew because she cared so deeply for him, she had asked, and asked sincerely. But he also knew she was counting on him to lie to her; to help her pretend that everything was okay.

That was the socially acceptable way to get through life - ignore the pain we don't know how to handle and hope that it would heal with time. And he didn't judge her for it. Because he also knew there was something else she was deliberately ignoring between them that was becoming increasingly difficult to deny. Something that made sense to protect by whatever means necessary. And, again, he did not hold that against her.

What would have become of their partnership if she'd paid any attention to the first sparks of interest from him? She, who had tried to bury that part of herself along with her husband - how would she have reacted if she had let herself notice her partner's affection? It was natural that there be moments; a practically unavoidable situation considering the long hours and intense circumstances. She had been right to avoid seeing it because it hadn't meant a damn thing.

Compared to how he cared for her now, those first pricks of his feelings were juvenile at best. No different than those of the shop owner on the corner of her block that always gave her an extra shot of vanilla in her mocha.

Compared to then, what was happening now - what was raging in his very blood, this - now - scared him.

No, he wasn't okay. Because he couldn't think past her now. And if there was one thing he had besides his sheer size, it was his ability to reason, dammit.

Under no circumstances could that be jeopardized; Could not be, and yet, where her life was concerned, his ability to think rationally and strategically, was gone.

He would lose it - he would - there was simply no way around that truth; if she died - if she was murdered right in goddamn front of him... There would be no way back for him.

Somewhere in a deeply buried part of his mind, Bobby cursed silently; he cursed and remembered the air in that room - the thickness. He had known it was wrong. He had known - but as soon as they'd stepped into the room they had set the game in motion - by the time he'd smelled the desperation in the air, it had been too late to turn back.

He had closed the door - let the nail click and turned to meet the challenge head on.

He had a healthy fear of guns, a healthy understanding of what a gun could do - but he was smart and he understood people and he could talk his way out of anything.

Before.

He had been able to _before_ she had died in his mind that morning... _Before_ he had found the body in the back of her own car at One PP garage. He'd guessed then - guessed far far back in the reaches of his mind that he wouldn't recover when he pulled that canvas back to face her. To face her and his failure to protect her.

Something had snapped in him during that vicious joke - like Humpty Dumpty up on that tragic wall. Something had cracked and nothing and no one could put him together again.

He wasn't all right. He played strong for her, he played the societal game for her and pretended that the world hadn't shifted beneath his feet. Pretended that all she needed was counseling and a few weeks and all he needed was her.

He'd seen it before in suspects, that hungry look in their eye when they talked about the object of their obsession. He felt it in his own gaze when he looked at her, but he knew that if she saw hint she would ignore it. She would ignore it for his sake and for her own.

There was nothing to be done. All the king's horses, all the king's men couldn't change the way his world and his mind had gone blank when the gun had been introduced into the game.

He had been aware of his responsibility - he had to talk, he had to think and work and squeeze their way out of this. It was on him. It was on him to protect his partner and, whatever the cost, he would not fail this time.

All he could see was the gun. The fear in that room; the emotion was too thick to wade through, but he'd gotten his mouth moving. Like he was swimming through tar he had talked, worked it through in his nearly paralyzed mind for her, for them because it was on him.

First, he had needed her out of the room, out of range in the same way that he had needed air in his lungs. He couldn't think past her. Her fear, so close to the surface with the PTS, his fear for her, his fear of what he felt for her... it froze him.

Somehow they had gotten out of that house both unharmed, if not exactly whole. And she had urged him to spend time with his mom. Because she cared... and because she cared she was asking a question now that she knew he wouldn't answer.

"Are you all right?"

He wasn't all right. He had to take the shambles that was left of his boundaries, his carefully defined understanding of their relationship and salvage what he could. He had to reshape it for the sake of their partnership and their friendship into something workable.

This truth, this burden that he knew was between them had to be buried and numbed - another sad skill he had acquired in his lifetime.

But Bobby knew that the present would never be enough now. It wasn't about all the ways she stood beside him anymore. It was how she was open to him in the same way that she was closed to everyone else.

He looked over at her, knowing she was busying her mind with the scenery and the tasks to come, but when he looked over at her, he saw his life. And he didn't know what the hell to do about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: If Alex was still struggling emotionally with the kidnapping, I wonder what buttons the events of War at Home would have pushed.**

**A/N: Fanfiction is therapy I think. I know everyone knows that there are going to be a ton of post eps for emotionally dramatic episodes, but it feels so freeing to write them... and I love reading other people's... so... yeah. I hope to continue this because I do not think that this is going to destroy Bobby and Alex's relationship.**

**Disclaimer: Characters are not mine...**

Alex slept in her closet that night. It was perfectly natural, her therapist had told in her first session... Perfectly natural that Alex develop some of her own odd coping skills. So, Alex decided that if it was so perfectly acceptable than there was no reason to tell anyone - including the aforementioned therapist.

It wasn't as if she crawled in there trembling and weak; No way. This coping skill was all about strength. She set herself in there as she would have prepared a bunker. It wasn't like some gross hole in the wall - it was a nice closet and she kept it clean and tidy. She wasn't sleeping on spiders or smelly shoes, she was just... _not_ sleeping on a mattress with three open sides.

At least not tonight.

Alex thought maybe Bobby had picked up on her secret about a month ago. He'd been following her around while she finished getting ready for her counseling appointment. He always did that. For a long time it had driven her batty but now she thought of him as a large, amiable shadow. Normally it was even sort of convenient - if she had something to say she didn't need to yell or go find him because he was always just there at her elbow. But _normally_ she wasn't trying to hide a coping skill that made her look like a freak.

She'd only had the closet open for a moment; she'd left her keys there in her rush to get ready (thats what a bunker was for - you kept your essentials at arm's reach: phone, keys, gun... There was nothing odd about it). But she thought his gaze hovered at the crack between the closet door and the floor a little too long.

Alex had slept in her bed for the first time that night. To spite him. Well, maybe not him... but to spite the weakness and fear in her that _damn him_, she knew he saw.

She wasn't okay. And she knew he wasn't okay... but dammit she didn't have anything in her to help. She was barely above water herself. He'd pull through - he had to because she couldn't.

Before they'd gotten the call on Thanksgiving she'd been avoiding her family and their concerned expressions. She'd gone out to watch the kids run around. The kids didn't remember Aunt Alex had even been in the hospital that summer... much less why. She could handle the kids.

She had watched her nephew shovel sand into his cousin's shoes and suddenly, in the flurry of their amusement, Alex wondered if she was ever going to be okay. And the call had come.

And she could press it all down again and focus on her job.

But Bobby had been pressing things down harder and longer than she had, she supposed, and Bobby wasn't so good at it anymore.

He couldn't pull through for her. She realized it the moment he walked into the elevator. Every nerve in her body and her brain seemed to start buzzing. Never had he disrespected her like that. Argued, squabbled, fought even - but never had he treated her as if she didn't matter.

By the time the elevator doors had shut behind him, _it _had sunk into her bones; He wasn't going to be her crutch this time.

Alex had never been very fond of irony. When Joe had died she'd learned that family and friends only got you so far. Even family had other family to take care of in the end. It was your spouse that promised to be there for you and you alone... So, in the echoing absence of the only person that had committed to stay, Alex had decided to be the strongest solo act she could be.

But she hadn't seen Bobby coming. The journey had been much too prolonged for Alex to think to pull back and see the big picture. Enter Irony. Before she even understood how completely she'd failed, the rug was being ripped out from under her again. Except this time it was worse. This time it wasn't death that robbed her of the man she trusted. This time it was choice. And this time she didn't even have the right to feel deserted.

Bobby hadn't said any vows. He hadn't committed his life to her. Bobby hadn't even promised to stick by her. And yet she'd come to depend on him as if he had and presume that he could and would trust her back. She hadn't thought walking away was even an option. What a fool, what a sad, naive fool.

Well, she'd been set straight. And that was fine. She shouldn't have assumed, she shouldn't have let herself get so close. He had his own problems right now and she didn't begrudge him the pain or how he dealt with it. Of, rather, if the way he decided on dealing with it was shutting her out then she had no way of changing his mind.

So she slept in the closet that night with her gun and her keys. But she left her phone on the night stand because it was past time to accept the truth. She was alone and alone she was going to thrive.

There were advantages to being an old maid. Alex smiled dryly as she turned out her flashlight and pulled the closet doors closer together, at least if she was alone, she wouldn't have to worry about explaining this to anyone.


	3. A Safe Set

**Title: A Safe Set**

**Summary: One way Bobby and Alex could resolve their fight in War at Home.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own LO:CI or it's characters**

The interrogation room was their own private theater. Both of them had performed here, though, by design, Bobby usually dominated the stage. It was an odd place for a reconciliation, but this was where they were and it couldn't wait any longer.

The latest audience member turned star (otherwise known as their suspect) had been lead out. The case was solved and, as with any production, there was a stillness after the storm.

It was in that odd, quiet moment that Bobby took his first step into the neutral zone. He didn't want to, he was still far from at peace himself, but he understood what was happening between them, knew what it was costing her and he couldn't handle another night with it on his conscience, "Eames."

Alex looked back at him and the mental checklist of the paperwork she would need to take care of disappeared. The near psychic connection with her partner she'd been working so hard to ignore was spitting to life. She knew he was going to broach _the_ subject; She could hear it in the tremor in his voice and see it in the carefully neutral placement of his hands on the table.

Bobby could only hold the look for a moment. There were things that still needed to remain hidden. He needed to take this slowly - to be sure that only what needed to be said was said.

This was the moment that would define everything... or rather, redefine everything again. He'd unintentionally smashed a trust, more than she realized. If she knew how close he was to losing all those carefully controlled boundaries that they lived their shared life by - their partnership by... she'd... he wasn't sure what she'd do anymore.

Her retreat within herself had served a purpose for him. It was easier to keep himself in check when she hated him. But passively watching as she pulled farther and farther away wasn't working either.

He waited for her permission to continue - some sign that she was willing to hear him out.

Alex felt the weight of the pause, wondered what he was waiting for and what was coming. There was that voice in her head that said to walk away - to throw his words back at him. _Back Off_. It wasn't exactly a voice to be trifled with. Alex looked at the door with no small amount of longing.

She wasn't just nervous about the confrontation - she was scared. She'd felt herself go numb inside before. She remembered how friends had tried to keep her present, keep her in their lives... but they hadn't understood. They had belonged to the part of her life that had died - dead in the snow with her spouse that awful night. And she hadn't been interested in a resurrection... she had needed what was buried to stay buried.

Alex didn't know if she'd successfully smothered the part of her that had belonged to Bobby. If he appealed to her now and she couldn't give it back to him... there would be no more pretending. There would be a break. There would be an end. And the thought of it chilled her to the bone.

Bobby ignored the tightness in his chest as the silence stretched, he gestured toward the chair opposite him, "Please, Eames... just... sit."

She looked at the chair, considered insisting he take the position of weakness but then rebelliously decided she didn't need the favor.

Bobby almost found it sweet - almost - the way she sat in the chair like a child taking their punishment. Defiance radiated from her as she sat across from him like so many other hostile and hurt witnesses he'd played to in this room.

Never had she been so far away from him. And never had it been so dangerous to reach out to her, "My behavior was... unacceptable. I'm sorry." He glanced up at her to check her non-verbal response to that and saw she was trying not to be read. Bobby looked around the room, searching for the right trigger, "You probably feel like I overreacted and- ... you're right. I - I let my personal ... frustrations affect my judgment."

Alex sat still, wondering if that was really what he was going to present her with - an apology appropriate only if he'd come back that night, only if he'd come back to her then and there. Alex sniffed. All that stress about staying in this room or leaving and this is what he was giving her. Anger coursed through her - maybe she wasn't dead to him just yet... She sat forward in her chair and jammed her finger into the table, "You want to do this Bobby? Fine. Let's do this. You want to know how I feel? Ask me."

Her tone pricked at his own frustration, "All right," he inhaled sharply, raised a hand in invitation, "How do you feel?"

Alex pursed her lips, the all too raw answers to that question thundering in her head. Did he think she was overreacting? Did he think this was some trivial spat gone on too long? She shook her head, "Forget it. This is stupid."

Bobby slammed a hand down on the table - once, twice, then softly a third time as he struggled against his emotion, "I'm sorry. I told you I was sorry and I _am_ sorry. I let my temper get in the way of-"

"No," Alex pushed away from the table and stood up, "Not good enough. It's more than that. It was personal." Bobby started to shake his head and Alex pointed at him, "You deny it now and I'm through here. I _will_ walk."

Bobby rubbed his hand against his forehead, "What do you want me to say Eames? Huh? I told you I was sorry..."

"And I told you that's not enough. You tell me why. You tell me why you treated me like I was nothing."

"I have been trying to tell you-"

"No, don't push this off as some sort of temper tantrum. I am sorry about your mom's condition, Bobby, you know I am. But you're hiding behind it and it's pissing me off!"

Bobby stood up and turned away from her. Everything was simmering too close to the surface, she was pushing him on purpose - but to drive him away or get through, he wasn't sure yet. Both most likely. But he didn't want to break again, he didn't want to be cornered and baited into giving her a reason to go, "What's your strategy here Eames - I can't see it. I can't see what you want."

"That makes two of us, Bobby." Alex stared at the back of his head, her love of him warring with her pain. Before she knew it there were tears in her eyes... of all the maddening effects of Post Traumatic Stress - her sudden aptitude for crying had to be the worst.

Bobby turned slightly toward her, the tremor in her voice only throwing fuel on his frustration because he couldn't go to her, she wouldn't have let him comfort her, "So what," Bobby waved a hand, "I've caused irreparable damage by - what? Showing emotion? I know that's against some cardinal rule in your house-"

Alex cursed at him, ready to leave, ready now to throw it, whatever _it_ was, the hell away.

"Fine," He shook his head again, "You want me to tell you what you already know?" Bobby's red - rimmed eyes pinned her to her place, "That I keep pulling back that bloody canvas in my sleep - except in my dreams it's not Amanda's body I find? You want to know that it's just easier if I just pretend - easier if I pretend you don't mean - that you aren't...?"

And suddenly the truth was so near to them in the air - it was right there... Both of them turned away from it.

Alex breathed deeply through her nose, trying to get back her own control, "What does that-"

"Or do you want me to lie and say I'm getting better and so are you?" His voice was almost level, in that studied careful way he tried to keep a lid on his emotions.

Alex's whole body started shaking. She braced her hands on the back of her chair, "I _am_ getting better. If _you_ want to see the Goddamned shrink, then be my guest."

"Yeah?" Bobby felt his next words rise and even though his anger nearly blinded him he nearly couldn't force them out, "Where did you sleep last night, Alex?"

He saw his words hit her; knew he hadn't been fair, knew he was already so close to losing her. His temper vanished and panic washed through him. Without another thought, Bobby took Alex's arm and pushed her gently to the corner of the room, away from the view of the mirror, "I have to make this better. You have to let me make this better. I can't - do this anymore."

Alex stared into his eyes, trying to keep her guard up - struggling to keep everything together. Then, abruptly, she sank against the wall - her steam had run out, her nerves were shot. She scrutinized his tie, "It wasn't the case or the captain or even the job. You deserted _me_, Bobby."

She saw him too easily, she always had, "I know."

"So tell me why."

Internally, Bobby wrestled with his pain, his attraction - everything that made this situation so much more than what it seemed. He couldn't lie to her and he couldn't refuse to answer. To tell her the truth would be to end them both. He searched her eyes for some hope, some... cue as to what he could possibly admit to without leading them down that road and without closing off the other.

What he saw surprised him. Strength. Still there, still intense and solid and totally intact... the wounds hadn't crushed it - hadn't crushed her. Maybe the fear had changed her, but maybe it was the fear that had made her gaze brighter than it had ever been before. She was stronger now and he hadn't seen it. So what was he protecting her from?

Bobby leaned in and Alex braced herself as he breathed her in from her collarbone to her hair. Then, abruptly, he let go of her arm and took a step back as he straightened to his full height. "You know why, Eames, don't you?"

Alex couldn't seem to focus her vision or her mind. Yes, she knew why... She just hadn't realized she'd known. She reached out to touch his shirt, then took her hand away as if it had been an unconscious movement. The air was so thick between them it was difficult to breathe, "Yes."

She couldn't stop staring at him, he was bracing himself to take a hit - anticipating the blow. Well screw that. So what if they both knew now? Did he think she was just going to bail because it was going to be hard? Because it might get sticky?

"Don't freeze me out again," Alex straightened and pushed away from the wall. "We're a team; a dysfunctional, pain in the ass team. Whatever comes next... we'll deal with it."

Bobby nodded half heartedly, watched her indirectly, willing her not to ignore what they'd just admitted, "Alex, I'm not...all right."

"I know," she answered, then paused just a moment before adding, "I've been sleeping in my closet."

"I know," he cocked his head and looked at her with the same expression he'd used when she'd insisted on coming back to work early.

Alex shrugged, "It's a nice closet."

"Eames..."

Alex shook her head and put her hand on his arm, held on firmly, "We're both going to be all right, Bobby. Because," Alex let go of his arm and fumbled for his hand, "Because I said so."

Bobby inclined his head in acceptance and squeezed her hand, trying to take the chill away. They stood there together, united again, maybe for the first time. She took away her hands, "I'm not sweeping anything under the rug, Bobby. We'll get there."

"Because you said so?" Bobby imitated her with a smirk.

Alex nodded with conviction, "Bet on it." She looked back toward the mirror, met his eyes again and let the silent connection they'd built together say what she wanted him to know before she walked out of the room.

Bobby ran both his hands through his hair. They'd redefined everything all right. Bobby looked around the room, _their_ room; united here they could stand against anything or anyone. Maybe it hadn't been such an odd setting after all. Maybe it was the perfect place to start over... together this time... because she said so.

The corners of Bobby's mouth turned up, what was he getting himself into? He grabbed his folder and followed after his partner.


End file.
